


Murder at the Manor House

by Small_Hobbit



Category: The Red House Mystery - A. A. Milne
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:00:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21735688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: When Tony's cousin Percy suspects something odd is happening at the local manor house he naturally contacts Tony.  And Tony naturally asks Bill to accompany him to investigate.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Murder at the Manor House

**Author's Note:**

  * For [water_bby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/water_bby/gifts).



_December 27 th_

“There’s a telephone call for you, Mr Beverly,” the porter said.

Bill, who had been lunching at his club, followed the man into the vestibule, which was still tastefully decorated for Christmas. He picked up the receiver. “Beverly here.”

“Watson, come at once if convenient,” the voice at the other end said.

Bill chucked. “And if inconvenient come anyway. Lovely to hear from you, Tony. And I am at your service. Where am I to come to?”

“Can you meet me at Paddington Station at six o’clock tonight? And bring your suitcase.”

“How long for? I’ve got a New Year’s Eve party to go to, although I could send my apologies if necessary.”

“I fear we will have failed if we’re still there on New Year’s Eve.”

“I understand. I’ll meet you at the station then.”

Six o’clock saw Bill at Paddington. There was no sign of Tony, and Bill looked around trying to see if he could spot his friend. 

After about ten minutes, he was starting to wonder whether he’d made a mistake. Then Tony’s cheerful voice said, “There you are. Come along then. I’ve got the tickets.”

Bill dutifully followed Tony onto the train, where they secured a first-class compartment to themselves.

“Where are we going?” Bill asked.

“Didn’t you notice the destination on the departure board?” Tony replied.

“The train is going to Worcester. But that doesn’t mean we won’t be alighting at one of the intervening stations.”

“Quite correct. We’re heading for a village in the Cotswolds, but we’ll be met at Charlbury. We’ll be staying with a distant cousin of mine.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“And why are we going? I can understand you might want a few days’ holiday in the countryside, but why do you need me?”

“Because I shall need my conductor of light. There’s been something strange happening at the local manor house, culminating with the death of the current lord of the manor yesterday.”

“But surely the police must be involved.”

“A riding accident. The Boxing Day hunt. The lord of the manor leapt over a hedge, fell on landing and was killed. ‘All very sad. He always rode like a maniac. It was bound to happen. Blah, blah.’ You know the sort of thing. Except there’s been a series of strange incidents, of which this is only the last.”

“What are your own thoughts?”

“My dear Watson, it is a capital mistake to theorise before one is in full possession of all the data.”

“Well, if you’re not going to theorise, then I trust you will have no objection if I go to sleep.”

“None whatsoever.”

***

As promised, they were met at the station by Tony’s cousin, Percy. He greeted them warmly and then drove them to the cottage, saying he would explain what had been going on once they were there.

“I need to concentrate on driving. The lanes are very windy, and you never know what you’ll find in the dark,” he added.

Bill hadn’t been convinced at first, but after a deer had shot out in front of the car, causing Percy to brake, and two other deer had followed close behind, he fully supported Percy’s decision.

They were welcomed into the cottage by Alice, Percy’s wife, and shown to two small rooms in the eaves. “I’m afraid this is the best we can do,” she said. “We weren’t expecting extra guests, but the rooms are perfectly dry, and I’ve put extra blankets on the beds.”

Bill muttered something conventional along the lines of “I’m sure it’ll be fine” and reminded himself he was only there for a few days.

“Do come downstairs when you’re ready. I’ll have a spot of supper for you, and we can tell you all that’s been happening.”

A few minutes later Bill and Tony went back down and were greeted with a cheerful “In here,” from Percy. They went into a brightly lit study, which had a blazing fire, to find a selection of cheeses and cold meats laid out ready for them.

“Can I offer you a beer?” Percy asked. “It’s a local brewery, highly recommended.”

They both accepted and each took a glass plus a laden plate and sat in armchairs close to the fire.

“Tell me again what’s been going on,” Tony instructed. “Your telephone message was rather garbled.”

“It’s hard to know where to begin,” Percy said. 

“It’s probably best to begin at the end,” Alice said. “I know that sounds daft, but it’s easier to keep track that way.”

“Very well,” Tony agreed.

“In which case we begin with the death of Richard Dedham,” Percy said. “He’s been owner of the manor house since last summer, when he inherited it from his mother’s uncle. In the ordinary run of things, he would never have inherited, but with the war, you know ..” Tony and Bill nodded, and Percy continued, “It’s true Dedham was rather reckless, and certainly a fearless rider, but there’s absolutely no reason why he should have fallen at that jump. I’d managed it quite safely earlier in the day, and I’m a cautious rider, so it doesn’t make sense.”

Alice took up the tale. “And nobody saw the people from the manor on Christmas Day. The staff all live out, and they were told not to come in.”

“Considerate employers, letting their staff spend the day with their families,” Tony said.

“Even the cook and the parlour maid? Dedham’s mother had come down a few days before, and she must have made the dinner because there was no-one else to do it. Gossip has it they ate roast chicken and stewed pears since that was what was left to be washed up. Hardly a festive meal.”

“And Dedham must have seen to the horses himself,” Percy added.

“They didn’t even go to church,” Alice said. Bill sensed her disapproval.

“People don’t always nowadays,” Tony replied.

“Maybe not in towns,” Alice said, “but this is a village, and he was lord of the manor. And before that, there were the carol singers.”

“The vicar always organises the church choir to go round the village singing carols on Christmas Eve,” Percy said. “They make a point of calling on the elderly who can’t get out; most people are pleased to see them. Anyway, by tradition the last port of call is the manor house, and in the old days the choir would be invited in for a drink and a mince pie.”

“We thought it would be nice to continue the tradition this year,” Alice said, “even if we didn’t get invited in. However, when we got to the manor house, there was a small pipe and drum group standing outside the main door already playing carols. They took no notice of us, so we turned round and came back. But the pipe and drum group didn’t play anywhere else.”

“I can see why you think strange things have been happening,” Tony said. “Was there anything else?”

“Just that as soon as Dedham’s mother arrived, she dismissed the milkman and insisted they get their milk from another dairy, so they now have a woman bringing the milk from miles away.”

“Yes,” said Tony thoughtfully, “I suppose they would.”

“Do you mean you know what’s going on?” Percy asked.

“I have a theory, but I need to put it to the test. And that I won’t be able to do until tomorrow. So, if you wouldn’t mind, Bill and I will have an early night.”

“Of course, is there anything else you need?”

“No, thank you.”

Tony stood up, and Bill followed him up the stairs to the attic bedrooms.

“Are you going to tell me what you’re onto?” Bill said when they reached the attic.

“Not yet. I can sense the strands, but I don’t know what’s tying them together. Would you be up for an early morning call on the remaining residents of the manor house?”

“Certainly. But if it’s very early, then they won’t be expecting us.”

“Precisely!” Tony grinned. “So I suggest you get some sleep.”

***

_December 28 th _

Bill woke to find Tony shaking his shoulder.

“Get dressed,” Tony said. “We’re leaving in five minutes.”

Bill hurriedly dressed and went downstairs in his stockinged feet, carrying his boots, so as not to disturb the rest of the household. Tony was waiting for him, and Bill quickly laced his boots and put on his heavy overcoat. It had snowed slightly overnight, but the sky had cleared.

They followed the footpath into the village and had just taken the road which led to the manor house when they heard the sound of a cart approaching.

“Quick, into the churchyard,” Tony said.

They slipped inside the churchyard and ducked behind the drystone wall. The horse and cart passed them and continued towards the manor house.

“That must have been the new milkmaid,” Bill said. “There were only a few churns on the cart. It can’t possibly be worthwhile delivering so little milk.”

“That rather depends on what else is being delivered and how much she’s being paid to deliver it. Come on, let’s follow her.”

They walked briskly up the road, and then, once they reached the manor house, they skirted round the garden to find a side entrance. Alice had confirmed that since Richard Dedham’s death, the indoor staff had been told to only come in for a few hours each day as his mother wished to be left alone. The outdoor staff were not required at all, the horses being temporarily stabled with the Master of the Hunt. Tony and Bill were therefore confident they would not be observed.

They had expected all the curtains to be shut and were surprised to see those of the long gallery open. They were even more surprised to see a lady, who they took to be Dedham’s mother, dancing. 

“Can you hear ‘hop, one, two, three’ being repeated?” Bill whispered.

“Yes, I can,” Tony agreed. “I can only see the dancer, and it’s not her. There’s no gramophone either. No, wait, it’s a parrot.”

A scarlet macaw flew the length of the gallery and then resumed its counting.

The two men looked at each other in astonishment. 

“Dedham’s mother doesn’t seem to be as upset at his death as we’ve been led to believe,” Bill remarked.

“No, she isn’t,” Tony agreed. “Let’s carry on round and see what else we can find.”

At the back of the house there was a brick garage. Curious to see what was inside, Tony started to open the side door. Instantly, there was the sound of honking. Tony shut the door rapidly.

But the noise of the geese had attracted attention because a man’s voice shouted, “There’s someone out the back.”

“Run!” Tony said.

Fortunately for Bill and Tony there wasn’t a great distance to the fence at the edge of the property. They sprinted across the lawn, scrambled over the fence and headed into the woods, where they sheltered behind a large oak, breathing heavily.

“I thought there weren’t supposed to be any members of staff on the premises,” Bill panted.

“I suspect those were some of the so-called carol singers Alice told us about,” Tony replied. “Well, at least I now know where they’re hiding the proceeds.”

“Those geese are an effective deterrent and warning system. Wait a minute, what proceeds?”

“I’ll tell you in a bit. For now, we need to find our way through these woods without being spotted by anyone, and then I need to send a telegram.”

***

It was the evening of the same day. Tony’s telegram had resulted in the arrival of a number of police cars, which had provided some unexpected winter entertainment for the normally peaceful village. There had been a delay in collecting the hidden goods from the garage since the police had had to wait for a local farmer’s wife to corral the geese, but eventually the manor house was empty of both people (arrested) and livestock (re-homed).

Percy and Alice had invited Tony and Bill to spend another night with them, but mindful of the beds in the chilly attic, they had pleaded other engagements, so Percy had driven them to the station in time to catch the final train back to London.

Once they were safely settled in a carriage, Bill said to Tony, “I think the time has come for you to tell me what exactly has been going on.”

“Indeed, good Watson, I owe you an explanation. As you have discerned, I already had some thoughts as to the nature of the crime, but whilst some things seemed to make sense, others appeared to have nothing to do with the case. It was only after we’d arrived and I was able to make a thorough investigation that I realised everything had its part to play, but that only some of the parts were significant.”

“Right,” Bill felt none the wiser. “Carry on!”

“The first thing you need to know is that Dedham’s mother had remarried following the death of his father to a man named Swann. I discovered this at the Public Records Office the afternoon we came down. And then there was Percy’s strange tale of drummers, pipers, a milkmaid and a lord leaping to his death. All of which put me in mind of that song, _The Twelve Days of Christmas_. And the more I thought about it, the more I realised parts of the song were being used to disguise other parts.”

“So we begin with, what, twelve lords a-leaping? Dedham, of course.”

“Indeed. And, yes, he was murdered. It seems unlikely he was aware of his mother’s scheme. The gang weren’t intending to stay at the manor for long, but when Dedham grew suspicious, he had to go.”

Bill nodded. “And next, eleven ladies dancing. That’s Mrs Dedham, no Swann.”

“Precisely. She clearly enjoyed dancing. The ten drummers and nine pipers were the gang in disguise, because no-one’s going to query carol singers at Christmas.”

“Then there’s eight maids a-milking. Or in this case, one maid.”

“Not actually a milkmaid, but the disguise worked, and she acted as their go-between. Again, no-one questioned it. Next, we have Mrs Swann a-swimming, followed by the geese in the garage, and then …”

They both chorused loudly, “Five gold rings!”

“Or more precisely, the Viscountess of Rutland’s jewellery, which was stolen four days before Christmas from her town house,” Tony said. “The police suspected the Swann gang to have been responsible but had no proof.”

“I remember reading about the robbery in the papers,” Bill said. “It was all a total mystery to me, but now you’re explaining everything, it’s obvious.”

Tony sighed. “And thus, the conjurer loses his mystique.”

Bill laughed at him. “Okay. What about the calling birds?”

“That has to be the parrot. The French hen was eaten on Christmas Day.”

“Turtle doves?”

“I’m not entirely sure. There was a young lady in Dedham’s life, and it may be he said something to her which revealed his suspicions.”

“Poor bloke. And we finish with the partridge in the stewed pear tree. All most ingenuous.”

“Definitely.” Tony nodded. “I hope you enjoyed our little trip to the countryside. What are your plans for when we get back to town?”

“Sleep. In a comfortable bed. In a warm room. Where the wind doesn’t wake me every half hour by rattling the windowpanes.”

“Would you care to join me for dinner first?”

“I would be delighted. Simpson’s?”

“Where else?”


End file.
